


Libraries are for Lovers

by mjules



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-14
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:06:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjules/pseuds/mjules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sigrun and Nathaniel have hot sex. And by sex I mean tea. But it's still hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Libraries are for Lovers

It starts with a cup of tea. She finds it resting on the shelf in the corner of the bookcase where she likes to curl up and read, steam curling up from the liquid inside. She looks around, but there isn’t anyone else in sight. Perhaps they mean to come back, she thinks, and takes the book back to her room. There’s too much light in her room; it isn’t as closed as the library with its comforting stone walls arches and _ceilings_ , but at least it isn’t the outdoors. She hangs a piece of cloth over her window, lights a candle, and curls up in bed with her book and her blanket roll that smells like home -- like the Deep Roads.

 

***

 

The next day, another steaming cup of tea waits on the shelf, but this time there is a note. _Drink Me,_ it says, and this time Sigrun looks around for Anders, or perhaps Oghren. Even the Warden Commander has a bit of a wicked streak to him, and she wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d filled the cup with something Oghren would have been happier drinking. Like nug piss.

 

She doesn’t drink the tea, but since it’s clear that no one else is using her reading nook, she settles into her usual spot in the musty corner of the bookcase, snuggled into cushions that are just the right thickness, and opens a book. She can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching her -- probably the prankster, waiting to see if she’ll fall for their trick -- so she reads _The History of Orzammar, Volume II_ instead of _Black Wings, Burning Hearts_ , the Antivan romance she’s been working her way through.

 

***

 

The third day, there’s no tea at all.

 

***

 

On the fourth day, she’s more disturbed by the absence of the teacup than she was by its presence. She’s still suspicious of being watched, but she _has_ to find out how the torrid affair of the Crow assassin and his devastatingly attractive target is resolved. She tucks _Burning Hearts_ into the open pages of _The History of Orzammar_ and settles down in her corner. She’s so engrossed in the story -- will the assassin find the knife under his target’s pillow? Will he _use_ it? Or will the target become the killer? -- that she doesn’t hear anyone approaching until the sound of a throat clearing startles her so much she yelps.

 

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel says, cradling two cups in his hand. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Sigrun shakes her head. “I mean -- no, it’s all right, you didn’t _frighten_ me. Exactly.” She tries to close _The History of Orzammar_ enough that _Burning Hearts_ isn’t visible, but she suspects it’s all too obvious. Nathaniel doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“It’s just…very chilly in this corner of the library, and I noticed you were shivering the other day.” He holds up one of the cups. “I thought you might like some tea.”

 

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him she was probably shivering more because of what she was reading than the temperature of the room, but --

 

“Wait, did you leave the tea here those other days?”

 

He nods, looking sheepish. “I should have known it would look suspicious, but I didn’t want -- that is, I hoped -- no. I was…concerned…that you might…”

 

There is just the faintest hint of color high on his cheeks, and she takes pity on him. “I would love a cup of tea. Thank you.”

 

He breathes out a soft sigh, relief etched on his features, and hands her one of the cups. He stands there awkwardly cradling the other one until she gestures to the cushions beside her.

 

“You don’t have to stand there. _The History of Orzammar_ isn’t very interesting reading, but --”

 

“You know,” Nathaniel interrupts, shifting from one foot to the other. “I had been reading a book that I left on the shelf, but I never finished it, and now I can’t seem to find it.”

 

Sigrun’s a rogue, and she knows when she’s walking into a trap, but Nathaniel is nervously tucking a stray wisp of hair behind his ear, and his voice is gruffer than normal, and she figures she can take the fall just this once. “What was the name of it?”

 

The spots of pink on his cheeks deepen and the flush creeps into his ears as his fingers tighten around his cup of tea. “Ah -- I don’t remember, really. Something about wings. It was a…”

 

“ _Black Wings, Burning Hearts_?”

 

Embarrassment and resignation mingle in his wry smile, and he nods. She opens _The History of Orzammar_ and pulls out the book she was hiding.

 

“I was wondering why certain pages were dog-eared,” she says, and Nathaniel makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. But he sits down beside her, and his arm is warm against hers as he sips his tea and peeks over her shoulder.

 

“Oh good,” he says, “you’re right where I left off.”

 

For a rogue, he’s not a very good liar; Sigrun has seen that there are well-thumbed and dog-eared pages all the way to the end. But she doesn’t call him on it, and as warmth seeps into her, she has to admit that he makes a bloody good cup of tea.


End file.
